Away With My Heart
by kagschannold
Summary: READ WANDERING, WONDERING, WHY FIRST. Six years later, Hermione has started her life over with Ron. Things take a sudden turn, however, when running into Draco in Diagon Alley. Rated M for later. Unofficial Summary.
1. Prologue

**"Away With My Heart"  
><strong>

**Well, I promised you a sequel, and here it is! This is the Prologue, hence why it is so short. Let me know what you think so far. I am open to reviews and suggestions. I would like to know if there is something here you hoped you would have seen, or what you want to happen next! *Note: if you have NOT read _Wandering, Wondering, Why?_, you might want to before reading this. **

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_December 02, 2004 _

_Have you ever wondered what might have happened, had you gone down a completely different path? What might have happened had you taken the _wrong_destiny? Was that wrong destiny really the right one to begin with? I ask you this, as a soul searching for mercy. I wonder, sometimes, whether or not i took the right path. Were my stars aligned in the right place? Am i pondering too much in too deep water that i cannot quite paddle over?_

_This fact, this one, I do know, is that, where I have ended up certainly feels right enough to me. I am happy. Aren't I? Does it matter not to the human eye that I sometimes still dwell in the past I promised myself was tucked so far deep in me? I do not know. I know, though, that I want to be happy, no matter what I do, no matter what the path... I want, I will, I am... happy. _

_-Hermione. _

Hermione Jean Granger. Associated with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Twenty-four years old, and in a steady relationship with Ronald Weasley. She felt in place with her life, well matured from her years in Hogwarts, and from the many learning experiences of her work.

Hermione never felt so much purpose flowing together so fluidly. She felt right, she felt stable. She was in love. What else could a woman of her age ask for?

Walking through Diagon Alley, she hummed peacefully, going to Flourish and Botts for Ginny, who was unable to leave her Quidditch Practices long enough to get some book Harry needed. For _some_ odd reason. Hermione knew to never ask, and instead did what she was told for her two best friends.

Hermione laughed to herself. She'd made it to her destination, relief that she was almost done, and could go back home soon. She stretched her fingers to the golden door handle, and was shocked when another set of fingers met it at the exact same time. Hermione jerked her hand back, purely out of instinct, and snapped her head up to apologize.

It was to her surprise that she laid eyes on a _very_ familiar set of stormy grey ones.

She stepped backwards, and the other person stepped forward. Hermione stumbled over air, and the hand of that _very_ familiar person grabbed the lapel of her jacket to prevent her falling. Hermione blushed a profuse red colour. It was underneath her lucky stars that she would come face to face with the past Hermione thought she'd tucked deep enough within her brain.

"M...Malfoy..."

Hermione's brain flashed with memories. The attraction... the _sex_. Anything she could have possibly feared coming back, came back all at an instant.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, though, did not look unphased by anything. Not even an inkling of their past was written on him. Only a blank expression that Hermione was currently _killing_ herself to decode. The older Draco Malfoy stood there, eyes wide, and lips closed securely. Would he even attempt to speak to her?

"It's... It's been a while." Hermione breathed. She figured, while she had him, it would be rude _not_ to at least small talk.

He still remained quiet. Still remained standing there, like stone.

Hermione pursed her lips.

"Well then..." she then said, reaching once more the door handle.

She was shocked again when Draco's hand met with hers. His icy fingers, having been exposed to the winter air, wrapped around her gloved ones. She could still feel it... the zing of electricity she felt years back. The last time he touched her... the last time he...

No! Hermione shook her head, and jerked her fingers away from his, appauled. Her face was now flushed red, but try as she may, Hermione could not evade him. She could not shake the feeling that had overwhelmed her upon even laying eyes on the boy. It was like she looked back in time. Draco had barely aged since Hogwarts. He was still _beautiful_... his hair was still absurdly blonde, and those eyes... Oh, those grey eyes were the same crystal clear they had been six years prior.

Hermione had aged, but to good measure. Her curves were _curvier, _and her hair was a little less bushy. Rather, Hermione looked way more feminine, way more appealing than she had while in school. Maturity had done her exceptionally well.

"Are you not going to talk?" Hermione was becoming a little annoyed at Draco's silence.

From what Hermione could tell, she knew he was struggling to say the _right_ thing. Certainly, he was thinking about the same things she was. Their past was a factor, it was still unexplained as to why Draco had _played_ Hermione so long ago. Hermione _thought_ she got over it when she and Ronald got back together. She _thought_ losing her virginity to him _didn't_ count since she was _convinced_ that she was nothing but a _toy_ in his game.

It _did_ count. She couldn't try to fool herself.

"If you're not, then will you excuse me?"

Draco, then, stepped aside. He watched with his grey eyes as Hermione brushed past, and into Flourish and Botts. She looked back at him through the window, covering her collar with a hand to try and gain back the breath she'd lost. She was flabbergasted, bewildered, and angry all at once... and she wasn't so sure she could bring it up to anyone once she returned home.


	2. One: Summoning

**Chapter One**

**Thanks to all the people who have reviewed so far. I am going to try and do my best on this story... I'm researching the works of the Ministry, and I'm trying so hard to get the characters up to par in their personality. I apologize for any OOC-ness... I'm still learning. Flames make me :C, so please be gentle with any harsh reviews. My tender heart is easily bruised. **

_I never thought that seeing her would leave me speechless. I'd never felt so dumstruck in my life. Deep inside me, I couldn't help but see the same Hermione I'd grown up with in Hogwarts. She looked marvelous, different... My curiousity might kill me, if I persue the sparks that started in my stomach. Should I see her again, will I be able to talk?  
>-Draco<em>

"I was thinking," Astoria said, holding a portfolio of wedding plans, while simultaneously browsing an address book filled with people Draco knew he had never met, "The bridesmaids should wear emerald green gowns, instead of the silver we'd planned."

Draco sipped his morning tea, legs crossed, and still clad in his nightwear. He brandished a deep, burgundy robe, fastened tightly via the strings at his waist. He was never one to talk much in the mornings, and that was highly impossible with his betrothed. Especially when it came to planning their wedding, which was officially set for the fourteenth of February... St. Valentine's.

"I'd also like them to actually be wearing emeralds as well. Unless that's too much, I don't want them out-doing my gown." Astoria continued on. A quill worked feverishly in a diary, following her every spoken thought.

"That would throw off the decorators." Draco said beneath his sips.

Astoria looked up, drumming a finger along her chin as she thought about it. Her shoulders tightened up, and suddenly, Draco wished he hadn't said anything. Ever since the announcement of the two getting married, Astoria had been nothing but tense, and a complete control freak around any and everyone. Her older sister Daphne had been hesitant from the start. She and Draco talked everyday. Daphne was still in shock that Draco Malfoy would even _want_ to be committed to anyone in the first place. Though, it had fully replaced the shock she'd carried for years after Draco and Astoria had first broken up.

Draco sighed heavily as he set the china down onto the table. He plucked a tart from the center, taking a generous bite. Astoria shook her head in disagreement at her fiance.

"This is why _I'm_ planning our wedding."

"Brilliant. I don't want any part in the chaos when you're constantly changing your mind." Draco spat.

Astoria cut her eyes at him, "Well, then, maybe we should just _cancel_ the whole thing."

"You automatically assume that I don't want to marry you?" Draco lost his desire for another tart, instead raising his brow and stiffening his jaw. He couldn't help but for some reason hope for a fight. He hated it when Astoria was in _full-on wedding mode_. It made her such a selfish little...

Draco stood up, waving his hand above the table, "I will leave you be."

Astoria kept her eyes down at the book when he turned to walk away.

Draco stormed up the staircase, which led to his bedroom, and discarded his robe on the floor, leaving it behind. He pushed open the double doors leading to a terrace, and basked in the icy December air that sent chills down his spine. His mind was unable to stray from the events that had happened the evening before. Hermione Granger had run into him in Diagon Alley, and he'd said _nothing_ to her.

Nothing at all. He cursed himself mentally for letting her go without a single bit of small talk... and she had tried to talk to him, Draco gave her credit. It was as if someone glued Draco's mouth shut, and snipped his vocal chords. The entire time he stared at Hermione, all he could think about was how _great_ she looked. How _wonderful_ she smelled, even standing feet away from her. The last time he'd laid eyes on Hermione Granger was when they were boarding the train to leave Hogwarts.

Their seventh year was a complete success, and despite the many tears that went on around him, Hermione had not been the one to cry that day. He knew, as well as _she_, that her tears were dried up from the many nights Hermione spent, broken in the bathroom... It was the same as when Hermione found _him_... although... Draco didn't _dare_ approach her. He'd hurt her beyound imagination. It didn't help that Hermione didn't tell Ron or Harry a single thing.

They didn't know about the affair. They didn't know that Hermione, despite the denial, had fallen hard for the Slytherin King. Draco felt his heart twinge everytime he could hear her crying. He remembered the look on her face the very day he caused such pain.

Even years later, he remembered it like it had happened minutes ago. Unlike Hermione, Draco could not, for a moment, keep himself for wishing that things had gone differently. He didn't _play_ her... she wasn't just another _piece of trash_ that he discarded. No, Hermione was nothing of the sort...

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><p>"Well... are you?" Hermione asked, standing in the bathroom with Ginny, who was perched on the counter with her ankles crossed and her hand holding the test that would inevitably change her life no matter what it said.<p>

Ginny shook the stick a little, "I'm not sure I want to look."

"Ginny, you have to! What if it's-"

"What if it's _not_, Mione?"

Hermione smiled sympathetically. Ginny, as told by a plethora of doctors, had a _very_ slim chance of ever reproducing, and she and Harry had been trying since they got married. The results, every time before when Ginny had this _false_ hope of becoming pregnant, she was deeply disappointed. This would be the fifth time in two years that Ginny would take a pregnancy test. Hermione had been there through the depression, through the anger...

Ginny exhaled that breath, and looked at Hermione with worried eyes. Hermione took her rightful spot next to her best friend's wife, and peered over her shoulder. Ginny closed her eyes briefly, inhaled and exhaled once more, then reopened her eyes.

"I'm... I'm pregnant." Ginny said, squeezing the test in her hand.

Hermione hugged Ginny about her shoulders. "I'll get Harry."

Ginny nodded, and Hermione was out of the bathroom within the second. She rushed down the stairs, frantically searching for Harry. Her heart thudded, and she was smiling from ear to ear. Maybe, just maybe Harry hadn't left for work yet. Maybe, per chance, he was running a little late. Hermione squealed for joy when she saw the back of Harry's head, and practically tackled him to the floor. Harry jumped, and then turned to look down at his best friend.

All Hermione had to do was nod, and Harry knew what was going on. He smiled, and then kissed Hermione's forehead. Hermione shook her head and laughed as he stumbled to the stairs. She leaned against the counter in the kitchen, arching her neck back only to see an owl flying in the direction of the open window.

The owl swooped into the house, dropped an envelope, and then flew back out. Hermione tilted her head to the side, before rushing over to the envelope, which was decorated intricately with her name.

_Miss Hermione Granger_

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><p><em><strong>Oh, gee<strong>_**... I do wonder who the letter might be from. -tehe- Yes. Ginny **_**is**_** pregnant, and I know you might be thinking "what?"... but don't worry yourself to death about that just yet. I have a lot of plans to put in this story. Starting with the obvious DraMione drama. I need to elaborate more on just how much Draco regrets doing what he did so long ago. He's the type to dwell and beat himself up about things right? Obviously there is going to be a lot of drama with the wedding and whatnot. This story is rated M for a reason guys. There will be smut scenes with **_**someone**_**! Doesn't matter who! Anyways, I was thinking of maybe collaborating a little on this story! Of course, credit would go to the person I collaborated to, but it would be rather hard, considering it would all have to be through email. This is not an official thought. but i will provide you with my email if someone is interested in getting a little input, or if reviewers would like to submit suggestions and/or anything else. (kagschann aol. com -minus the spaces)  
>don't be afraid to email me! i don't bite... all the time. ;}<strong>


	3. Two: Falling of the Queen

**Chapter Two: Falling of the Queen**

**Note: titles to the chapters will not particularly be relevant to what the chapter holds. Although, this one **_**kind of**_** pertains to it. Enter Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy! Oof... I am majorly stressing about this chapter. I am so worried that I've gotten Draco out of character in this. Please don't kill me if I have, but how else would he be in the upcoming situation? I know I might have gotten Ron OOC too... Oh, yeah, Ron is in this chapter by the way... Ginny too. (:**

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><p><em>Miss Hermione Granger, I apologize for the way I acted when we met in Diagon Alley. Let me take you to dinner to properly apologize... If you prefer, we can talk in private. I look forward to your response. <em>

_- Draco Malfoy_

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><p>Draco was weak when it came to certain things. Those certain things had the ability to harness his very heart, and wrap chains about his soul. The main one of those certain things was his mother. She was ill, and it <em>broke<em> Draco to even think twice about the subject. It was Astoria that practically _forced_ Draco to accept the fact that his own mother, his guardian angel, would not be in his life for much longer. It was Astoria who went with him to every visit, every day at lunch, just to make sure that the diamond in his life was still shining. At least glimmering, in the pale light she was currently basking in.

Six years before, doctors told Draco and his father, that Narcissa would not be living through the summer. They were proved wrong by other, more elite and prestige doctors, when Narcissa pulled through her first year after the diagnosis. Year two was even more so of a shock... there was no telling how she found the will to live. Especially after all the pain whatever was killing her gave.

Draco shuddered, not completely wanting to know details. The point was, it was her _sixth_ year of living post-diagnosis, and that was good enough to convince Draco that she would still be living when he would have children.

Sitting in the hospital room with his mother and father, Draco twisted his fingers together until his knuckles ached from the pressure. Narcissa had been admitted into St. Mungo's the night before, much to Draco's surprise. The day before, she seemed perfectly fine. The illness, however, was known to fluxuate from one extreme to the other.

Sitting in the hospital made Draco feel uncomfortable in the first place. They were not too far from the incurables, people who would be permanent residents to St. Mungo's. It didn't enlighten any of them that Narcissa was on the same floor... Not at all.

Draco kept his stormy grey eyes to the marbled floor beneath his feet, avoiding looking at either of them straight. Narcissa, weaker than he had ever seen her in the previous week or so, was wrapped in a deep violet blanket, while her hair cascaded down her back in a mess that was so unlike her. Narcissa wore no make-up, and she was wearing clothes Draco never recognized from her wardrobe. She looked older than she probably felt... and she probably felt twenty years older than she really was.

Lucius, ever loyal, ever faithful, sat like stone at his wife's side. He held his emerald encrusted, snake-headed, cane under pale fingers, while simultaneously balancing a steaming cup of fresh tea on a china plate with the other. His hair, however, was just as platinum as Draco's. His eyes were darker, and his face had aged just enough to distinguish his experience. Lucius, the King of the Malfoy throne, looked much the same... Which came as an unfortunate event to himself.

While sitting practically on the other, far, side of the room, Draco felt Astoria's hand slip into his. Her fingers intwined themselves, hooking until her fingertips brushed the back of his hand. She looked at her bethrothed as he bowed his head, trying to get him to at least look up... if not for a second. She had seen the pain in her lover. Draco was having a fairly hard time with the fact, and Astoria kept to herself that she thought Narcissa would not be attending their wedding. It was just too much of a false hope that she would... Astoria didn't want to see Draco fool himself into thinking it, when others _knew_.

With her other hand, adorned with the diamond bestowed upon her left ring finger, Astoria brushed her knuckles against pale skin, cold as ice. Draco let out a sigh, somewhat defeated, and brought his chin up until he could see Astoria, and everything around her. She looked majorly concerned, but at the same time, there was a sympathetic comfort look in her expression that _actually_ made him feel a twinge better.

Lucius set the china down, clearing his throat, and then looking at his wife. Narcissa, despite it all, smiled, and brushed her hand, too, along the side of her own lover's face.

Narissa elicited a sort of coughing that gathered the attention of the whole room. She covered her mouth, clasping the other weak hand about her middle. She had never made such sounds in her life... at least not that Draco could remember. He looked up when it started, mouth agape, and eyes wide enough that they might fall straight from their sockets. He tightened his fingers around Astoria's purely out of the fear it brought upon. Narcissa seemed to be a little paler then.

She, despite the pain, looked over at her _precious_ boy, and waved her hand, "Draco... let me see you. Come to your mother."

Draco shuddered. Was that _really_ her voice? Narcissa Malfoy was no longer the same person she used to be. It made Draco feel like dying himself. Why... why did it have to be _his_ mother that such a monster decided to consume? The bone-shattering, breath-clenching, fear that swallowed Draco left him sitting on the couch next to Astoria like a helpless dog. He tucked his tail between his legs, wanting to go to her, wanting to be wrapped in the arms of his mother... Although, her arms might not be as comfortable as Draco remembered... The arms that _wanted_ to surround him weren't the arms of his mother.

They were the arms of his mother _consumed_.

Narcissa Malfoy did not belong in some sort of _hospital_. She belonged at home, in the Manor with her family.

Instead of doing as his mother requested, Draco shot up from the couch, and started for the exit door.

Lucius shot up as well when his wife mewed in disappointment.

"Draco." Lucius said in a firm voice, "Go to your mother." He demanded.

Draco cringed at the tightness, remembering it well, and reliving all the past memories of his childhood. It would be best not to make a scene... not in front of Astoria.

Turning on his heel, Draco walked, subconsciously counting the steps it took to reach his mother. Draco sat, hesitantly, eyes red and fighting the urge to spill. She looked at him, her eyes wide, and her lips still permanently plastered into a smile. Narcissa reached for her son, who sunk into her lithe body.

"I know this is unexpected. I didn't _plan_ on being here today." Narcissa told Draco, stroking his hair, and kissing his cheek. She breathed into his ear, and hummed something softly, as to comfort her... even just a little.

Draco shook his head, and felt the tears spring forth into his eyes. If he were to blink... they might fall.

"You're still just a boy." Narcissa whispered, "I know you won't handle it."

"You'll pull through... you've pulled for six years." Draco shuddered, pulling away slightly.

Narcissa nodded, "I'm _tired_. Maybe six years is long enough."

"No... no... N-no, don't _say_ that." Draco cried, begging her.

"Draco."

"I won't have it!" he yelled, walking away and leaning against a stone wall, pressing his palms into it. His forehead brushed the wall lightly, and he shivered. His mother... _his mother_. Draco couldn't help the cruel thoughts swarming in his mind, wishing that he could place this _monster_ on someone else...

When a slender hand travelled up Draco's spine, he sobbed, and recognized the touch. Narcissa, shakily, had removed herself from the bed, and pulled her son into a hug.

Draco was crying.

"I love you." Narcissa told him.

Draco shook his head, letting the tears flow freely, until they dripped from his chin, onto the floor into tiny puddles.

"I do..." she voiced again, this time, turning her son around to look into his eyes. She smiled. "I'm here _now_. For this moment, you need to understand that I love you, my son. I love you more than I can ever explain to you. You're the love of my life, Draco Lucius Malfoy."

There, in front of his mother, Draco was reduced to a sobbing mess. He fell down into a chair, covering his face with one hand, while the other one was held tight by her.

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><p>Hermione had discarded the letter, somewhere in one of the Ministry's trashcans, and decided she would leave him hanging. He hadn't said a <em>single<em> word to her in Diagon Alley when they ran into one another. Hermione had been so bedazzled upon seeing him...

But...

If Draco Malfoy hadn't the _respect_ to even say 'hello' to her after having not seen her in a while... then she hadn't the _respect_ to respond. The more she thought about it, the more it absolutely infuriated her. Yes, they had a rather _secretive_ past that only the _two_ of them knew about (*Hermione doesn't know that Pansy confronted Draco.), and it was risky considering the consequences. And, sure, every so often, Hermione _did_ find herself thinking of what would have happened had Draco not completely shut her down.

What would have happened had Draco not told her that she was just _another toy_? Would Hermione have still been drowning in a sea of emotions between him and herself? Would she be... happy with a Malfoy?

Hermione rolled her eyes.

She was older now, more mature. Hermione didn't _need_ an apology from Draco, and she certainly didn't _need_ to become reacquainted with him. Not if he was going to act the way he did... and then write her about it. Hermione was _happy_ with Ronald. She was happy with where she was in life. Hermione was happy... She was. (But with her thoughts... one would question Hermione.)

The day at work, as usual, was a little of a drag. She had to fill out numerous sheets of paper, and file them all before three that afternoon. Hermione gained several paper cuts, but overall, it'd been a brilliant day.

Strolling down the little path leading to her home, Hermione hummed the tune to a song she could barely remember the words to. She bounced on her heels, ready to cook dinner with Ginny, like she always did. Harry would be home with Ron soon, and the four, as usual, would sit around and discuss the many activities the day brought.

"Ginny, I'm home." Hermione announced, kicking off her high heeled shoes, and discarding her coat to a rack.

Ginny poked her head out from the kitchen, "I suddenly remember why my mum always did the cooking."

"Lucky that the house is not burned to the ground." Hermione teased.

"You've gotten a letter, by the way. I left it in your room."

Hermione tilted her head to the side. She looked up the stairs, before quickly making her way up them. In her room, to the left, Hermione stretched her entire body until her back popped pleasently. There, on the edge of her bed, was a letter, as intricately designed as the last. She looked it over, shaking it, and measuring to see just how heavy it was.

Nothing more than a piece of paper, but she knew who it was from before the seal was broken. Hermione didn't _want_ to read the contents, although she stared at it as if it were the eighth wonder. Was he _really_ writing her again? Wouldn't one assume that the first letter without response was enough? Why did the bloke have to go and be persistent...?

_Oh, right. He's Malfoy._ Hermione laughed, tossing the letter onto the floor. She stretched once more, and went to the closet holding her clothes. It was about time she was able to shed of her much too dressy dress wear. She always looked forwards to putting on pajamas, no matter what the time. Slipping off her pencil skirt, and her white button up, Hermione took a moment to look herself over in the full legnth mirror. With nothing but her knickers, she breathed in deep.

_Thank Godric, Mother Nature hit me after Hogwarts._

Hermione laughed again. She slid herself out of those knickers, and then rummaged in her closet for a comfortable pair of sweatpants.

"This is interesting."

Hermione jumped away from the closet when a voice travelled in from the door. She turned quickly, wishing her wand was somewhere closer. Her heart pounded, and her face was red. Much to her relief, however, Hermione was looking at the familiar puff of firey red hair. Ron smiled, staring at Hermione with an interest. She didn't even try to cover herself, and instead, stood there, waiting for him to come to her.

Which he did.

Ronald Billius Weasley, the current love of Hermione's life, slid his hands from Hermione's hips, across her sides, and then up to her shoulders, where they pressed down. His lips closed the gap between them, and he was kissing her so gently, so tenderly, that Hermione could feel herself melting.

With one of her hands, she pulled Ron closer to her with her fingers around his belt. The other hand tangled itself into his hair, kissing him back in the same manner.

Ron, however, became heated, and soon, he hoisted Hermione off the ground, and forced her back against the mirror. She gasped, blushing, and cursing herself for the thought that crossed her mind...

_*Draco looked into her eyes, "Let me be the one to show you _everything_."*_

"Ron," Hermione groaned, pushing him away before setting her feet flat on the ground. "I'm going to help Ginny with dinner, we can do this later."

Ron sighed, but smiled anyways, he kissed Hermione gently, winking, "I'll _hold_ you to it."

Hermione watched as he walked out of her room, letting out a breath when the door closed behind him. She fetched a pair of grey pants, a black shirt, and slipped them both on. Hermione tied her hair up with a ribbon, before looking back to where she had discarded the letter...

_If I open this letter... _

When the seal was broken, Hermione tugged out the letter that it contained. She glanced it over, marvelling at the handwriting that was identical to the last letter. It was _definitely_ from Malfoy, and Hermione couldn't help but feel guilty for not responding the first time.

Her instinct should have been to burn the letter, to not have even opened it in the first place. If Ron... or Harry... found out that she'd ran into Draco in Diagon Alley... No, if they knew Draco was writing her _letters_ **because** they'd run into one another... the accusations would come about. Hermione couldn't have that happen.

Hermione shook her head, and read the letter anyways.

_Miss Hermione Granger, I don't particularly blame you for not responding to my letter. I don't particularly know why I've written another. Granger, take it into consideration, and if you would rather not see me again, at least have the decency to write someone back. Didn't your Muggle mother teach you manners? _

_-Draco Malfoy._

The absolute nerve of him! Hermione frowned, and tore the letter straight in two. She couldn't believe it... _Didn't your Muggle mother teach you manners?_ How dare he! She was definitely _not_ going to accept his apology after a comment like that...

Giving the paper another round of rips, Hermione fetched her wand, and pointed it at the pile of randomized words.

"Here are my manners, Malfoy!" She yelled, before waving her arm and voicing, "Incendio!"

The papers ignited in a small fire that faded off after turning them into ash. Hermione kicked the ash, and watched it scatter in the air around her. She clenched her jaw in anger. So long as the letters came to her, she would repeat the action.

He had no business trying to _ruin_ her life again.

"Stupid Malfoy..."


	4. Three: Every Question Fades Away

**Chapter Three: Every Question Fades Away**

_It's a bloody shame. You think someone like him would get the hint. I've gotten four letters since the last, and I've burned each and every one. All turned into ash, and I swear... It's like Malfoy knows! Do I dare tread on the waters of my past, and confront the Slytherin Prince himself? Or, do I pretend, and keep burning what I should have burned so long ago..._

_-Hermione Granger_

Admittedly, all the letters were driving Hermione mental. She couldn't go a day without a one. Her box at work, her window sill at home... Since the last letter, they kept coming. If Hermione counted, she would see that they always showed up at the exact same time every day, right before lunch.

Why was it so important to Malfoy if she met him anyways? The old Malfoy would never try so hard just to _apologize_. Hermione shook it off as a clever attempt to get her _alone_ with him... Somewhere deep in her mind, a wicked part of her wanted that to be true. She couldn't deny all she had felt for Draco back in Hogwarts. There was an attraction neither of them could say wasn't the least bit real. She mulled it over numerous times, trying to put herself in that denial... That she never... she _never..._

The still, immature, eighteen year old, Hermione lingered within her, and it hadn't become so apparent until she'd run into the bloke almost a week before. Hermione came to the conclusion, that the more she _promised_ herself she wouldn't go back to her past, the more she thought about it.

"This is great, Mione." Ron told Hermione as he shovelled a spoonful of eggs into his maw.

She turned her attention to her boyfriend, having not realized she had went into such deep thought. Her plate, still full, had remained untouched. It surprised Hermione that Ron hadn't tried to snag any of her food yet. Hermione smiled as wide as she could, and rose the cup of black coffee to her lips.

She cringed when she noticed it was practically ice cold, and set it down immediately. How long had she been in thought?

"Ron... I might go to Diagon Alley for a little while. There were some books at Flourish and Blotts I wanted to look at when I was there for Ginny and Harry." Hermione said, still watching Ron eat.

She shook her head, "Would you like to come with me?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders, and leaned back in the chair. His eyes were like magnets when he saw Hermione's breakfast. She gave up, and nudged her plate over to him. Her mood instantly changed...

It might not be a good day.

"Nevermind. You don't have to go."

Honestly... how could an Auror eat with such... lack of etiquette?

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><p>The fact that Hermione had not answered a single one of his letters, not only made Draco anxious, but it also made him fairly angry. All he wanted to do was <em>see<em> her... He had changed over the years, and the way he wrote the letters, he knew Hermione would probably say otherwise. He sat in a chair with his knuckles against his mouth, and another piece of parchment laying on a book in his lap. His quill lay dormant in between his fingers. If he wrote her _one more time_... would she answer?

That was what he thought every time he went through the process.

Hermione was _not_ answering, and if she _was_... the letters would have surely been there by now.

Maybe what ever owl she was using was more than daft. Or, maybe Hermione was using that fat, ragged cat of hers... What was his name...? _Cookskanks?_

Draco shook his head, _No... that's not the name._

A moan left Draco's thin lips. He was completely alone that day, and still had to go see his mother, like he always did, everyday. Astoria, to his relief, was with her sister Daphne, and Pansy. Draco still didn't quite understand why Astoria _insisted_ that Pansy Parkinson had to be a bridesmaid. He supposed because she was _Daphne's_ friend, and Astoria didn't really have that many of her own thanks to her sister.

Not that she couldn't get people to be nice to her. Astoria was not an ugly girl. No, she was far from it... but she mirrored her sister, and the attitude famously intwined in Daphne Greengrass was rather sour. It didn't shock Draco that Daphne was friends with the girl that practically would break her neck to make him try and _love_ her. Pansy was just a shag... She made Draco look better in school.

As cold as it was, it was the truth. Draco wouldn't lie.

Draco chuckled a little.

"Maybe I'll head over to Diagon Alley after I visit mother." Draco said to himself.

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><p><strong>I know this was rather short and all... but, it got late, I got tired, and this will just keep you wondering what's going to happen next chapter. I hope you like this so far! If my updates slow down, please forgive me. This story takes a little more planning than the last. I won't go on hiatus with it for two months either. Pinky promise... no, I make the Unbreakable Vow. <strong>


	5. Four: Every Answer Fades Away

**Chapter Four: Every Answer Fades Away **

**this is the rewrite of this chapter for those of you that have ALREADY read.**

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><p><em>Hermione<em>

Ill-fated.

It was the main feeling coursing through my body the moment I ran into something that felt much like a brick wall. Granted, I wasn't the most balanced person in Diagon Alley that afternoon, but it just so happened that my luck was thin, and I _had_ to stumble across the same path as the one person I had absentmindedly hoped would not be there in the same vicinity as I. When I looked up, from my much too hot, much too spilled styrofoam cup of silky smooth coffee (that I now would not be able to have the pleasure of drinking), I could admit that I was not expecting stormy grey (although now more silver) eyes staring down at me.

But, no matter how much I tried to deny it, there they were, and beneath them, was the thin smirk that could only belong to one person, and one person only. The same blonde, egotistical, narcissistic, pompous... right fowl git... Draco Malfoy. (Damn him for making my heart flutter brilliantly.)

He just stood there for a moment, much like he had the first time we ran into one another (figuratively _that_ time), _staring_ at me, as if I were some sort of plague. His eyes were, that I finally noticed, wide, and lips, despite the smirk, were sort of twitching. Sort of.

I cleared my throat, still completely unhappy about the spilt coffee, and tossed the cup into the bustling of the crowd. If he was going to stand there like a complete bloke, I was going to at least let him have a piece of my mind.

"Alright, Malfoy. I have a lot to say to you... and don't take it as a compliment that you are talking to me after _obsessively_ trying to get me to OWL you back for days." I said, wishing I really had worded it better.

Draco, smirk faded, let out a sigh, brushed himself off with a newfound scowl when he registered what was all over the front of his (seemingly brand new) dark grey (cashmere... suede, I'm not sure) coat. He snarled at me, narrowing one eye in disgust.

"You ruined my coat, Granger."

I laughed at him, watching as confusion spread over that pompous face of his, "That's _really_ what you're worried about? Your coat?" I laughed a little more, as if trying to mimick the ways he used to laugh at me in the past.

I did it well... and I was rather proud of my confidence. (Really, I was horrified out of my wits standing face to face with him.)

"You're the same, Malfoy. I can see it all over your face."

"I wish I could say the same about you, Granger." Draco spoke through his teeth, making my stomach tie itself in knots. It was going to become a little harder to stand there with a fake, poorly curled, smile on my face...

"You've become such a prude, stuck-up bitch."

"Suppose I just want to show you that you cannot push me around anymore." I wanted to scream, and most of all, I wanted to dart into the nearest bathroom and hide until I was sure that Draco had left Diagon Alley.

I'd anxiously hoped, while simultaneously, hoped that I could at least go a single day without having to be so bloody bothered by the fact that Draco was trying to contact me. I hadn't wanted to run into him, seeing as it was not written in my everyday agenda to see him at all. He was staring at me with such an unfamiliar familiar glare, but at the same time, I could see something much different about the Draco Malfoy standing in front of me. The boy that I met almost fourteen years ago was not all completely there, and I didn't mean that he was mental.

Draco clenched his jaw, starting at the zipper of his coat. He yanked it down angrily, murmuring sorts underneath his breath while I watched him. Underneath a deep, emerald, green sweater, I could still clearly see the outlines of his figure. Still lean, still probably toned. If I looked hard enough, I swore I could see that Draco had toned out a little more. It made me bite the inside of his lip, until something snapped inside my brain and caused me to blink away the memories of the past.

I shuddered, and pulled my scarf tighter around my neck, "What on earth are you doing, Malfoy? You're going to get a-"

"Funny how you're worried about me getting sick because of _your_ coffee, but you won't answer a single one of my letters."

"Why are you sending them then?" I snapped, "Every time, right before, or right after, lunch? Why are you OWLing me, when I didn't answer you the first three times? Shouldn't you have gotten the hint that maybe I don't want to talk to you?"

He chuckled, empty, but still a chuckle, "Talking to me now, Granger."

"Yeah, well I..." I really had no comeback for that one. I sighed, "Oh, shut up."

"If you'd just let me apologize-"

It was _my_ turn to interrupt, "Apologize? Why do you feel the need to apologize after all these years, Draco? Why would you want to dig up dirt that is really not going to help anything at all? Is this what you want? Do you want to _ruin_ things for me all over again? Like you did six years ago..."

Draco was bewildered...

"I wasn't... why would you-"

Was he _really_ speechless?

"Granger, you always think people are out to get you." He told me instead.

I shook my head. I stared at him, watching his body still underneath the emerald green of his (very appealing) sweater. He hadn't quite taken notice, because he parted his lips and began talking again.

"I wanted to apologize for running into you the _first_ time, and for not even saying a word." He said in such a light tone.

No. This couldn't possibly still be the same Draco Malfoy I grew up with, hated, and then _almost_ fallen fo-. Ugh.

"So... you OWL me, and keep doing so when I don't answer?"

"Which is rude."

"Explain that, Draco." I said his name like I had the right to. He looked at me, and silence fell between us. The bustling people seemed to flow around us, never cutting what seemed like a field surrounding Draco and I.

He swallowed, "Come to dinner with me."

I cocked a brow, "Why would I do that?"

"For spilling coffee on my coat." He jabbed his thumb to it, now dangling over his (perfectly sculpted) shoulder.

The eighteen year old Hermione Granger in me was screaming bloody murder, caterwauling like mad for me to decline, for me to do anything _but_ accept Draco's invitation. I wanted to say no, honest, I really did. A part of me was fighting, while the other part wanted to see him again after this faded. Did I want to be hurt again? No.

Did I want to see Draco again?

I slid my feet a few inches backwards, and shook my head, "I can't do that."

"Can't... or won't?" Draco asked.

"Can't... Wo-... _both?_" Was my answer. I bit the inside of my lip hard enough to where I was sure it would draw blood. He just stood there, waiting for me, despite my determination to win a losing battle.

He laughed again, and this time, it was much like the laugh of the boy I was _used_ to. His smirk appeared, and his pale face molded into an old memory that scared me enough to be a Boggart. I supposed it kind of fit... despite me being happy, there was always a lingering feeling in the _very_ back of my head that if I saw Draco Malfoy again... I would...

I thought I'd buried these feelings so long ago.

"You... you can't stand there and ask me to dinner." I told him, "You can't do that, because I know what's going to happen."

I really didn't know, but I had to improvise. (or something.)

"Draco, you act like an apology will make it better, reguardless _what_ you are apologizing about... we both know what you are _really_ wanting to say sorry for." I said it, opening the wound.

My stomach knotted all over again, when he spoke, "Hermione."

"Don't do that." I was scared, and it sounded as if glass shattered to a million pieces in my head. I stepped backwards, and before I could bolt, Draco reached out and latched his fingers tightly around my wrist. I gasped, staring down in horror at the sudden change of atmosphere.

"Hermio-"

"No!" I yelled, bringing my free hand up to make contact with his porcelain cheek.

When I did, several people stopped around us, and I looked at them cautiously. Draco dropped my wrist, and clenched his jaw down hard.

I would not stand there any longer, and I would not go to dinner with him...

So... I ran as fast as I could, until i reached Knockturn Alley, and wiped tears that sprang forth into my eyes.

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><p><strong>I don't know which version you like better (for those of you that had already read this before), but I went with a different approach in the P.O.V. department. I hope you liked it. A little more dialogue, and all that jazz. Now back to the House of Night books... <strong>


	6. Five: Welcome to My World

**Chapter Five: Welcome to My World**

**CHAPTER FOUR HAS BEEN REWRITTEN, SO IF YOU'VE READ IT BEFORE, GO READ IT AGAIN. **

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><p><em>Draco<em>

So, she _wouldn't_ come to dinner with me. She probably wouldn't even send me a mere 'hello' anymore after that. I sighed heavily into my knuckles, having taken a seat in a local London Cafe. It never hurt to sit with Muggles every once in a while, and Astoria was lurking _somewhere_. I'd decided that maybe, I should perhaps attend the rest of the evening with _her_, rather than trying to convince Granger that I wasn't going to do anything to hurt her over a harmless dinner.

Nothing at all would convince someone as stubborn as _she_. I knew that from the first time I laid eyes on her. Shaking my head, I let out another sigh, as a waitress skittered towards my table, holding a round, porcelain mug. She leaned over unnecessarily, flashing me her cleavage, which, had I been the slightest bit interested, would have roused my curiousity. I gave her a glance, straight into her brown eyes... and a flash made me jerk back and swallow hard. For a moment, I thought as if I had seen Hermione.

Preposterous. Was I going to hallucinate about her now?

The waitress stepped back once, and tilted her head to the side, "Mister Malfoy?"

I blinked again, shaking my head. My eyes kept to the table, "Thank you."

Before she could make another gesture to me, Astoria popped into the scene, holding her bag close to her hip. I knew she would dismiss the befuddled waitress, and when she did, I instantly caught sight of the diamond placed on her left ring finger. She brushed her fingers along my arm, which made the hairs stand in response. I was still attracted to her, yes. She was my _fiancee_.

Although... I was plunged deep into the thoughts of Hermione, and why she was never going to spare me a glance ever again.

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><p><strong>Kind of gives you an idea of what is starting to happen to Draco. Back to thinking about another girl. Tsk. <strong>


	7. Six: They All Swim, While I Drown

**Chapter Six: They All Swim, While I Drown**

**I know my updates have been coming once a week lately. But, hey, at least i'm still updating!**

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><p><em>Hermione<em>

The heat of the water rushing down my back seemed to comfort me only a little. I didn't want to think, and I didn't want to sit around moping like a bloke. I just couldn't shake the thought of Draco. The thought of wanting to run back into Diagon Alley and scream his name.

I thought I was happy. I thought I loved the way my life was. I thought... and I was scared that maybe I was wrong. It scared me to death. I couldn't do that to Ron all over again.

Closing my eyes, my forehead pressed against the shower wall. So absorbed in my thoughts, I didn't register a thing around me for a matter of minutes until a hand travelled across my stomach. I gasped, my eyes snapping open. A set of lips covered my shoulder, while a tongue slithered over my heated skin. _Draco?_ My mind asked, somewhat hoping that maybe... just maybe.

"'Mione..." a voice, so not Draco's, whispered, "We've got the house to ourselves."

I sighed, guilty that I was slightly disappointed to hear Ronald's voice behind me.

* * *

><p>Hermione picked and poked at her salad, while the other three laughed and ate, like they always did at dinner. She phased them out, only able to go back to the shower, where she and Ron had been in not long before. Hermione flinched... knowing that the whole time... she hadn't been seeing Ron in that shower with her. Draco's eyes... Draco's fingers, his lips, his thighs. It was all she imagined, and had Hermione not bitten her lip at the end, she might have called out the Slytherin Prince's name.<p>

Hermione blushed at the thought...

Maybe she shouldn't have ran off from him in the Alley. Maybe if Hermione had given Draco the chance and accepted his invitation. Maybe if she'd answered his letters.

_No_. Hermione clenched her jaw, stabbing a radish with her three-pronged fork. _I don't need to feel this way. I'm with Ron... and isn't Draco engaged?_

Never once, until that point, did that subject cross her mind. Draco, in a matter of months, was supposed to be marrying Astoria Greengrass. How could she have forgotten after seeing the news in both Wizard Weekly and The Daily Prophet? It didn't occur to Hermione, either, that it actually bothered her when she saw it. None of it occured, and it was because Hermione promised herself years before to block all those emotions out. She didn't want them back, they were just starting to come back.

Slowly. Painfully.

While sitting there in the middle of her anger, Hermione closed her eyes, held tight to the hem of her shirt of which her other hand lay, and breathed a long, rugged sigh.

* * *

><p>Draco was lying on his back, staring up at his fiancee as she rocked back and forth, up and down in a rhythmatic dance that he found himself surprisingly out of sync with.<p>

His chest fell, and he was breathing, sweating, bucking up to her every thrust. It felt _good_ yes, and Draco knew it used to be so much better than that.

Astoria moaned his name numerous times, whilst sliding her hands along her sides and to her breasts, squeezing them. Draco moaned too, and arched his neck back as he came close to his end. He wouldn't look at her now, because all he could see whenever his eyes closed was the familiar brown eyes, and that soft brown hair. Draco moaned loud, and he dug his fingertips into Astoria's hips. Oh, _Sweet Salazar_ how the images of that one fateful day in the Restricted Library Section.

Hermione was naked, and she was _innocent_, holding onto Draco for dear life as he carefully, willingly, thrust every last inch of himself into her delicate flower. He remembered, holding her against that bookshelf, and listening to her silent mews when she finally flew so high that her eyes glazed over. She was _beautiful_... _delicious_.

"Dracooo." Astoria moaned, having pulled her lover's hand up, in order to aid her in rubbing a most sensitive spot on her womanhood.

It hadn't even occured to the blonde what she had done until he snapped out of his daze, opened his eyes, and lifted his hips to finish Astoria off.

It all ended in a fit of eccentric moans, and spasms of the raven-haired girl's pelvis. She fell down onto his sweat-covered chest, and went limp.

Draco, out of habit, kissed Astoria's temple, and sighed heavy. It was _convenient_ that thoughts of _Granger_ seeped into his mind. Soon enough, Draco would be aroused again, and he would have to deal with relieving that arousal with the woman he was going to marry in a few months.

"I love you." Astoria whispered, trailing her finger across her fiancee's collar.

Draco smirked, and they shared a kiss, "I know."

"And you love me?"

"Of course."

Astoria sighed in contentment, drawing her arms around Draco tightly. She would be asleep soon, much to Draco's fortune, and he waited, mind becoming even more consumed with thoughts of Granger than it had been the whole time he and Astoria made love.

If he could call it that.

Draco bit the inside of his bottom lip, chewing it impatiently. He wanted to see her again, Hermione, he wanted to see her... and more importantly, he wanted to _feel_ her... At least, at that point and time. What she said in Diagon Alley struck him... did she really think that he was going to _hurt_ her all over again? If anything, Draco just wanted to make things better between he and the bookworm. He didn't want her to let the past take over her thoughts of him... although, before all of what happened, happened, her thoughts were not too kind of him in the first place.

In all honesty, Draco wished that _those_ thoughts would replace the fear in Hermione that history was going to repeat itself.

Another sigh left his lips, and Draco realized that Astoria was fast asleep in his arms. He looked down at her, blank, before sliding out from beneath the covers and onto the hard marble floor of their bedroom. _His_ bedroom.

Everything in that house, while his father maintained residence with his mother at St. Mungo's, was his inheritance. All the little touches his mother ever brought into Malfoy Manor, Draco would make sure they got the same proper care as they were given before.

Before.

Draco laughed at the familiarity of that word. He wished that everything was like _before_. All of it. If he hadn't started to fall in love with Hermione way back when, he might not have ever known his true self. Or... well, whatever he had been when they were dillydallying in their attraction to one another.

Walking across the floor, Draco came to his master bathroom. There, he took a seat on the edge of the bathtub, looked to his left, and saw himself in the wide mirror across the room. He looked the same, breathed the same, and _hell_ he didn't feel the same at all.

_I shouldn't. _Draco said to himself, _but I want her._

* * *

><p>"Hermione." Ron asked, placing his hand across Hermione's forearm.<p>

Hermione snapped out of her daze with a "meep" sound, blushing furiously as she looked around at the others. Her heart, still racing, seemed to be pounding even harder than before, and she could hardly look Ron in the eye when she turned her full attention to him. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she swallowed a lump that was beginning to form in the back of her throat.

Ron cocked his head to the side and rose one brow over the other, "Are you feeling well?"

Hermione released her grip on the hem of her shirt. Wrinkles decorated the one corner, and she frowned at herself for it, "I'm just tired."

"Won't you go to bed early then?" Ginny said, scooping her soup into the spoon before sipping it gingerly.

Harry nodded in agreement, "You've been working rather hard lately, haven't you?"

"Ah..."

"It's okay 'Mione, you go lay down." Ron said. He leaned in and planted a kiss upon Hermione's flushed cheek, "I'll be up in a couple hours."

Hermione nodded, looked around at each of her loved ones, and then pushed her chair away from the table. She let out a small scoff, and stood, her legs feeling like jelly when she wandered towards the stairs that led to hers and Ron's bedroom. Hermione took a look back at her friends, who had, immediately, gone back into conversation. She felt a twist in her heart, but Hermione couldn't possibly think straight. Her mind was still bubbling, boiling, and spilling over with _him_.

She cursed herself.


	8. Seven: Slips, Slurs and PlayOn Words

**Chapter Seven: Slips, Slurs, and Play-On Words**

**oh, what's this? Two updates in a row? well bloody hell. **

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><p><em>The Daily Prophet - December 13th, 2004 - Monday<em>

_FRONT PAGE - TOP STORIES_

_Malfoy Manor Falling - Narcissa Malfoy's Condition Worsened._

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><p>Hermione plopped down in her chair at the Ministry, scattering the paperwork before her with a look of pure disgust. It was not enough that people <em>still<em> kept House Elves... but, with the new age, some wizards were still abusing them, and the elves were dwindling in population. Hermione wanted to change the world, at least for them, and for a couple of years, her plan was going swimmingly. Sometimes, even the most brilliant plans go astray, and Hermione hated when that happened.

She sighed, clasping a quill in between her fingers, almost snapping it in half. Why couldn't people just learn to live in a perfect world?

Hermione laughed underneath her breath, _Perfect World... seems a little far-fetched._

"Miss Granger?" a voice, low and sweet, popped into her office, startling Hermione near out of her skin.

She looked over at her assistant, covering her collar bone and altering her glances in between them and the spilled, blue, ink spattered across her most important paperwork. The assistant paled at it, and started to skitter in panic. Hermione shook her head, held out her hand, and sighed once more.

"It's fine... I'll fix it."

"A-are you su-sure?"

"Yes. What is it that you needed?"

"I-I was ju-just bringing you your copy of the p-paper, Miss Granger."

Hermione grinned, trying her hardest to let the assistant see that she was not a bit angry (when she _was_ just a smidge irritated that she'd ruined her work), "Thank you."

When her assistant left the room, closing the door with another _I'm sorry_ after closing it a bit too hard. Hermione shook her head, sat the paper to the side, and reached for her wand. Hermione looked at it with curiousity. She hardly ever used her wand anymore. She hadn't needed it as much lately, and it bothered Hermione whenever she caught sight of it. Hermione hadn't even took her wand home with her in at least a couple months.

"Scourgify!" Hermione said, wisping her wand with a flick of a wrist, watching as the ink vanished.

Contentment spread over the pale cheeks, and she arched her neck back slightly. Hermione looked to her left, catching sight of the first headline on the Daily Prophet.

Instantly, her eyes widened, and she snatched it up as if life itself depended on it.

"Narcissa Malfoy is dying?"

* * *

><p>Draco hated crying. He hated emotions, and he hated being next to his sickly mother. She'd, like the papers now broadcasted all over the wixarding world, gotten worse. So much so, that Narcissa was barely responsive, or coherent. Her condition, whatever it might be, was not a good one... That was all Draco wanted to know after rushing from work into the hospital three hours before he normally would during the week. His mind drowned in terrible thoughts. Draco was uncertain that his mother would live another half-hour, and that <em>scared<em> him.

Astoria was unable to leave from her work. She apologized greatly to the blonde, and Draco was sort of relieved that she wasn't there with him. Soon, Lucius would arrive, and Draco could finally sit down and weep pitifully, like he'd done on the way to St. Mungo's.

_Mother..._ Draco whimpered in his mind, staring down at her petite figure, which looked more like a child's the more he stared down at her. His mother... His precious mother. Draco had to use a good part of his strength to keep the tears at bay that very moment. Why did it have to hurt _that_ much?

"Mr. Malfoy, your mother is just short of stable." A nurse said, holding a needle in between her fingers. "I'm going to administer this to her. It will help with any pain that your mother still has."

Draco flinched, but he did not say a word to the nurse. Horrified, Draco watched the needle pierce Narcissa's skin, and he swore he saw the liquid slither into her veins. He needed a toilet, and he needed it fast. He sucked in a breath when the needle released, clenching his jaw with so much force. The nurse smiled lightly, before brushing past Draco and to the sink behind him.

"You are welcome to stay as long as you like." She told him.

Draco clenched his jaw a little tighter.

"There is a toilet just around that corner of this room if you need it as well."

When she left, Draco breathed hard, turned, and rushed to the bathroom of which the nurse pointed out. Down, onto his knees, Draco clasped the sides of the porcelain, and ducked his head into the bowl. Spit, vomit, it all came out painfully. He choked, sputtered, and when it was all said and done, Draco patted for the toilet paper, and wiped off his lips. He fell completely to his bottom, careening against the wall and starting a round of sobs that shuddered through his body.

* * *

><p>Hermione didn't know why she'd come, and she didn't feel all that comfortable in St. Mungo's Hospital. Not that anyone in their right mind, or health, <em>would<em> feel right, especially walking on the fourth level... where the incurables were housed.

Wizards, witches, and others alike stared at Hermione with such hatred, that it was unreal. She shivered in fright, supposing that the patients were only glaring at her because they knew, at the end of the day, Hermione was able to leave that place, and go back home to sleep in her warm bed. They knew that she was not _crazy_ and that she was not so unfortunate as to have been abandoned by loved ones... all because they had a _problem_. Hermione knew what St. Mungo's was like.

Neville Longbottom's parents were patients there... and this was the floor of which they were put.

When Hermione approached the Service desk on the Fourth Level, she set the small bouquet of lilacs on the counter, shivered again, and hesitantly tapped the bell. Groans, painful, skin crawling moans were echoing throughout the halls. Hermione, if she hadn't already asked for the rest of the day off, would have turned and darted back to the sanctuary of her office.

"Yes, may I help you?" a Healer, full figured, with curly blonde hair asked, sliding a pen behind her ear. She wore a blood-coloured lipstick, and sapphire blue eyeshadow... a little much for a normal Healer seen walking around.

Hermione wanted to frown, she wanted to comment, "Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Are you family?"

_Lie_. Hermione told herself, "I'm... her... I'm... Narcissa's niece."

The woman stared at Hermione for a good thirty seconds. Her eyes scanned every last inch of what she could see on Hermione, pulling the pen back from behind her ear and scribbling on a piece of pinl parchment. She waved Hermione towards the set of double doors to the left, and then turned back to her work.

"Room 751."

Hermione scooped up the lilacs, turned away from the woman, and brushed past a group of Healers in order to get through the two doors that opened automatically. Right as she was through, Hermione caught glimpse of the room, and felt her heart thud.

_You can do this._

* * *

><p>Draco had stood up, although unsuccessfully the first few times all thanks to his weak knees. His father was still not there yet, and he hadn't even owl'd Draco to let him know he would be running late. Draco didn't particularly care.<p>

He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing the black beneath his swollen, red eyes that were still filled with tears in need of spilling. Draco could see his mother in the reflection of that mirror, and it slapped him in the face one more time. He let go, _really_ let go, but he would not fall to his knees again.

The sound of the door opening caught Draco's ears, and he assumed it to be Lucius. His stomach was tightly wound into knots, and he could feel someone staring at the back of his bowed head. Was that... the smell of lilac?

Draco turned to look, and instead of the identical platinum blonde locks to his, Draco saw only the mess of brown curls, pulled back into a high pony tail, that belonged to Hermione.

"Morning, Malf-"

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Draco interrupted, voice like death, although cracked and in different pitch.

Hermione looked at the flowers, "I brought flowers... and I thought-"

"How did you get in? You're not family." He interrupted once more.

"Are you all right, Malfoy?" Hermione took a step closer to him, to where, if she reached, Hermione could brush her hand along his pale cheek, and wipe away the trail of dried tears away.

Her heart hurt seeing his pain... and she couldn't mask it in her eyes.

"What does it look like, Granger?" his weak voice got weaker, and Hermione wanted to cry herself when she saw a sob tear through his entire upper torso. Draco clasped to the sink, and sunk.

The emotion was too strong... and he just wasn't able to shake it. Draco let out ragged, breathless scoffs, and eventually began to choke at the lack of air he was taking in. Before he could fully cry, Draco felt arms wrap around him, and a head rest against the middle of his shoulders. He snapped his head up, and he could see the top of Hermione's hair in the mirror. She was holding him, her arms burning around his stomach. His mouth, dry, his tongue, flicking behind his teeth.

How could Hermione go from, the other week, being absurdly judgemental of him, to being sympathetic of him? She was there, when he knew she should be working, holding him, trying to console without words. It soothed him... just barely.

"I might have no right to be here." hermione told Draco, squeezing her fingers against his chest, "Please, do not ask me why I've come, because I do not know."

He didn't speak. Draco only slumped back, and cried more.

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><p><strong>Deja vu? Yeah, I thought so. Hermione, once again, finds beloved Draco crying in a bathroom. Although, this time she <strong>_**knew**_** she might run into a sight like that. I had more to this, but I edited out. **


	9. Eight: Not the Answer I Should Know

**Chapter Eight: Not the Answer I Should Know**

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><p>"<em>This won't change anything."<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>Why the hell are you following me?"<em>

"_I'm not!" _

"_Don't make me laugh, _Granger_…" Draco growled through his teeth._

"_Malfoy! Let her go."_

_Potter._

"_You tell your _filthyMudblood_ friend to stay out of my business. I don't like being spied on, and I definitely don't like being _lied_ to." … "Stay away from me…"_

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><p>"<em>I didn't ask for your help, Mudblood. I didn't want you there."<em>

_Hermione slapped Draco across the face. She clenched her jaw tight, the tears still streaming down her face, "I hate you!"_

_Draco seethed with anger. He snatched up Hermione's other wrist, and turned her to where she was pinned against the wall. Hermione breathed heavily, crying harder than she had been previously. He looked down at her, pressing close to her body to keep her from squirming._

"_I don't know _why_ I felt so excited when Pansy told me that you and that _fucking_ Ron Weasley broke it off. I don't know _why_ I haven't been able to keep from thinking about you when I'm with Astoria. I don't know _why_, and it _kills_ me."_

_Those words hit Hermione like a heat wave._

"_Wh…what?"_

* * *

><p><em>Draco stood there, absorbed in his thoughts. Hermione walked up to him, tapped his shoulder, and was taken back when he did something she did not expect.<em>

_He kissed her. _

_Hermione's breath was sucked from her lungs at an instant, feeling Draco's lips on hers, hungry and needing. She stood frozen, not sure of what to do other than to let him have his way._

* * *

><p>"<em>If it didn't kill you…" Hermione breathed, "Then why didn't it make you stronger?"<em>

_She looked to her left, "Why didn't it make _me_ stronger?"_

* * *

><p>"<em>Draco… make me yours." Hermione moaned.<em>

_Draco grabbed her hips then, and kissed Hermione's neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, flicking out his tongue to touch her searing, but velvet skin. Hermione felt everything spiral into one as the pleasure washed over her. She was still against the shelf, being lifted and dropped, covering Draco with her fluids. It was exotic… being in the library, of all places._

* * *

><p>"<em>Maybe you were just another one of my <em>flings_. A stick in the mud, a crumpled piece of trash that I used up for one night, and forgot about the next?"_

* * *

><p>Hermione pushed away from Draco about the same time as she remembered herself running away from him with hot tears in her eyes. She hadn't any idea that her eyes were teary until she did, and Draco turned to look at her through his reddened ones. Hermione covered her lips, pressing her hand hard into her cheeks and shaking her head.<p>

She wanted to bolt from that hospital room… but something wouldn't let her.

"You shouldn't be here." Draco said to her, voice almost a whisper. He could see it in her eyes, the memories that surged through her mind, because, from the moment she wrapped her arms around his torso for the sake of his comfort… Draco knew.

Those thoughts were his too.

Hermione shakily uncovered her mouth, then tried her hardest to mask the anxiety in her expression, "I came to check on you…"

"And maybe you should-"

"Draco…"

The voice was faint, almost like the breeze that circled them, but Draco had heard it, and it interrupted every thought he previously had seconds before. He snapped his head to the left, and saw his mother moving. She reached above her head, tossing her head to look for her missing son. Hermione helped Draco to his feet, and he shrugged her away, brushing past the girl in order to get to the bed in the center of the room. Narcissa Malfoy breathed in a way that spelled out the worst of words. Hermione clasped her fingers gingerly around her own collar bone, swallowing the lump in her throat. Draco was right, she did _not_ belong there, and Hermione was afraid to move. Moving would mean she would be seen. Her being seen chanced assumptions… and rumors.

They both didn't need that, but Hermione could not move. She could not keep her eyes off the two of them. The way Draco rushed to her side, cradled his mother's head in his arms in an embrace that was all but peaceful. Narcissa was trying to fully come back into consciousness, blinking her eyes most hundreds of times, while stroking Draco's cheeks a little too hard. Not that he minded. His mother was coherent, and that was what he'd hoped for after what the nurse had told him many minutes before.

About the same time Hermione mustered up courage to make her exit, Lucius, and Draco's fiancee, Astoria, walked into the room, holding what seemed like a delicately prepared lunch for Narcissa. Astoria latched herself to Draco's side, seeing as he had stood straight as to not look like a fool around his father. Hermione scowled somewhat. Even in his twenties, Draco looked like stone whenever his father was near. He still did whatever it was that he told his son, though, at least now it was to a certain extent. No, Draco had a new person to control him now besides his father.

She could see the raven hair that framed porcelain cheekbones almost as if the girl was a handcrafted doll. Her bosom was swelled, perfectly sculpted, as her hips were not too small, and not quite too wide. Astoria Greengrass was more suited for Draco than Hermione had ever hoped to have been. Not that she hoped she was suited to him _now_. Hermione shook her head.

It was obvious that Astoria had a hold over Draco- whether or not it was as strong as it looked.

Hermione waited a good twenty minutes before Narcissa fell back to sleep, and Lucius exited the room. Astoria still stood with her betrothed, holding his hand, and occasionally, sharing a kiss with him. He looked uncomfortable, and Hermione knew exactly why. Astoria was aware of the past that the other two shared. She knew, from a certain friend, what had taken place, and even though she'd said nothing on the subject, it was best not to bring it up. It was best not to make an appearance, because suspicion would be high, inevitably ruining what Draco had with the Greengrass girl all over again.

When Astoria gave Draco one last kiss on the cheek, Hermione felt something lift off her. She peeked from the corner of the bathroom, and could see the platinum blonde boy heading her way. He glanced over at his mother, and then cleared his throat. The door closed behind him, while his eyes averted over to Hermione, sitting on the little sink to the left of the room shower.

"Why did you come?"

"I told you not to ask."

"I'm asking."

Hermione scoffed, "I was… worried."

Draco ducked his head a little, "Why would you worry about me? You made it perfectly clear in Diagon Alley that you were to have nothing to do with me."

She blushed light pink, twirling a loose curl about her index finger. "I wouldn't know what to do if one of my parents were dying. I can't imagine-"

"You _can't _imagine… because it will never happen to you. You don't have any idea what I am going through, seeing my mother die everyday in front of my eyes, of course you can't imagine it!"

"Please… don't yell at me."

"I'm not yelling." Draco said it through his teeth, and he could no longer control the anger that suddenly bubbled underneath his skin. He turned away from Hermione, clenching his jaw and his fingers tight. He didn't know why she was making him so angry… when it was not even her fault.

Hermione was confused. She wanted to leave but she _still_ found no will to move her feet. More than anything, she wanted to scream at him too. But, for the respect of his mother, Hermione sought it be best not to make a scene… in St. Mungo's no less. She sighed heavily, and gathered whatever courage she had left inside of her petite body. Hermione stepped one step forwards, before seeing Draco turn at an inhuman speed, and grasp her shoulders. Before she had the chance to gasp, Hermione's lips were covered by another pair.

Her throat jumped high into her throat, threatening to choke her from the lack of air. Every little bone in her body screamed… Whether or not it was from pleasure or absolute fear, Hermione was convinced it was the latter. Why, why was he doing this?

He kissed her with so much intensity, so much need, that it was like a dream. If he were to press any harder, he might melt into her skin. She clawed at the cotton of his jacket, while being pressed against the wall she then registered was there. Hermione shivered, and she pushed Draco away.

Draco was not quite done yet.

Forcefully, he kissed her again, holding her tighter, kissing her hungrily. She was hardly able to breathe.

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><p><strong>Blah blah blah. I put some reference from <strong>_**Wandering, Wondering Why**_** in this chapter if you hadn't already noticed. Not originally how I planned to start the chapter, but it seemed okay to me. I hope you guys like it so far. I really do worry, PLEASE REVIEW**


	10. Nine: With Opportunity Comes Chaos

**Chapter Nine: With Opportunity… Comes Chaos**

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><p>"Mmmh!" Hermione squeaked, shoving with all her strength against the man. She got away from him, and stared with wide eyes across the bathroom.<p>

Draco fought with himself, and kept his eyes away from Hermione the entire time she talked.

"I could scream at you, Draco Malfoy… I could hex you into another world if I really, truly wanted to." Hermione said, not quite loud enough for anyone outside of the room to hear her, "For the sake of your mother… I will not do either of those!"

He kept his eyes down.

"How _dare_ you!" Hermione said, she leaned in, eyes filling with tears that she would not allow to spill in front of him. Her heart was pounding so fast, and she almost couldn't talk without messing up every word due to the rapid turning of her stomach, as well as all the other insides.

"I am happy! I'm happy with my life! Why did you think it was ever okay to… to _kiss_ me!"

"Hermione…"

"You had absolutely no right to do such a thing! Look at what you've done… "

Draco looked up this time. Hermione was staring at him with her chocolate brown eyes, darkened by the anger and confusion swirling inside of them. He felt a knot forming in the middle of his chest. Maybe she was happy. Maybe he just wasn't. He knew what he'd done, and he did it intentionally. The outcome was not what Draco expected… Was it selfish of him to assume that Hermione would fall at his feet with the thought that _maybe_ Draco needed her?

Or wanted her?

Draco shook his head of the foul thoughts seeping in, and parted his lips to speak to Hermione. She tossed her head from side to side.

She would not let him get another sentence through to her.

"I'm leaving! Do not OWL me, do not so much as look at me when I cross your path, do not even think about me anymore so long as I am breathing!" She meant every word of it, and that was what scared Draco the most.

She stormed out of the room with so much speed, that the air from her exit frustrated a few papers left on a chair. Draco clenched his jaw, wanting so much to kick himself for what had happened. He wanted her. He wanted everything she could be… and Draco knew that was not likely to happen considering the way it turned out many years ago.

He knew that if he had truly wanted her, he would not have hurt her the first time.

_How could I be so stupid?_

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><p><strong>I basically wanted to write this chapter short because I mean… Hermione needed her reaction, and I wanted it to go something like this. I have plans… they are soon about to unfold. :D love you!<strong>


	11. Ten: You're Killing Me

**Chapter Ten: You're Killing Me**

**i almost thought I wasn't going to be able to update this week... who knows for next week though. here is a chapter for you guys! btw... thanksgiving is REAL SOON... so, Happy Thanksgiving! (craving potatoes and gravy now)**

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><p>Hermione ran, and ran, and ran. Until, she couldn't take any more running, and apparated back to the Burrow. She launched herself through the door, where Ronald was just about to exit through, and latched to him like a leech needing blood. She didn't speak, nor would she let Ron, and she only remembered kissing him harder than she had in a <em>while<em>. Events following led to losing articles of clothing and barely making it to the bedroom before Ron sheathed himself inside the needing body Hermione gave to him.

Hermione stayed on top of the redheaded boy for, she estimated, at least two hours, pleasing him and making it known that she too needed to be pleased in return. She rode Ron like she had never done before, like a true champ, and she would not let him be the dominant one this time. Hermione's nails left tiny pink scratches along Ron's chest, his shoulders, and even his back when she'd forced him to stand while they made love. Not that Ron really minded. All the attention he was getting made up for all the attention he'd never gotten before.

She still could not shake the thought of Draco's kiss from her mind, no matter how hard she rocked her boyfriend, or how many times she orgasmed and kept riding despite it. All her thoughts of Draco made her _see_ him several times during the whole act. Hermione had to learn to shake it off, and close her eyes. Which didn't really help that much at all.

Draco. It was all she could think about.

_How dare he kiss me like that. How dare that pompous git of a prat kiss me and then expect me to melt into goo at his will… I will never be like that again. I will never fall in love with Draco Malfoy like I did years ago. _Hermione kept telling herself. She was at her end again, and soon Ron would reach his climax as well. She would make sure they finished simultaneously, even if she had to make him (or herself) hold back.

Ron moaned excitedly beneath Hermione, often reaching up to cup her breasts. His moan turned into protesting ones every time Hermione smacked him away, but he decided he might as well not ruin the moment. What with his libido being stimulated (in more ways than one that afternoon), he might as well _enjoy the ride_, and ask questions later.

If he even remembered _how_ to ask a question in the first place.

Her last orgasm made Hermione shudder pleasantly, although, when she opened her eyes, Hermione had to fight the urge to call out Draco's name. She was in the moment, and she rode out their ends, while milking Ron to let all of himself flow into her. She gasped, he gasped. They then fell into a sweaty embrace, clinging to one another as if they had run a full marathon… or two.

"Well… that was… brilliant." Ron breathed, stroking away curls from Hermione's face, kissing her cheeks adoringly.

Hermione forced a grin at her boyfriend, and laced her fingers with his. They used to fit so perfectly, and Hermione looked perplexed that they didn't look or feel that way this time. She let out a sigh of disappointment. _He's already ruined it._ She echoed inwardly. How could she ever truly look at Ron the same with the daunting secret of letting Draco kiss her… even if it was unintentionally. It was not like Hermione _told_ him to kiss her. It was not like she kissed him instead. Hermione bit the inside of her lip, unable to speak to Ron.

"Everything okay, 'Mione?"

She, despite the obvious guilt that poured into her stomach, nodded, kissed Ron, and snuggled close to his chest. _He's so much more callus than Draco is…_

"I love you, Hermione Jean Granger."

"I love you too, Ronald Billius Weasley."

* * *

><p>"Do you want to move up the wedding?" Astoria asked her fiancee, stroking the back of his hand sympathetically.<p>

Draco shook his head slightly, and paled at the thought of just _why_ Astoria would suggest it. He felt as if he could throw up again, after having done it so many times previously that day. It was getting dark outside, darker with each passing minute. He looked over at the little knick knacks his mother had collected over the years. Still in their rightful places, still in order of which Narcissa liked them. He felt tears pricking the crooks of his grey eyes.

Astoria leaned in and pressed her forehead against Draco's, cupping his cheeks in her tiny, cold, palms. She looked so sincere, so caring, but Draco knew that she didn't really want to stray from the originally set wedding date. It was already printed on the cards… Draco had no interest in dabbing anything already done.

"Rubbish."

"_Not_. Draco, your mother is going faster than we suspected… since she has lived six years longer than the doctors anticipated… we assumed that she would live the rest of her life like normal. Fools like us did not contemplate that something like this would happen." Astoria pulled away, checked her manicure, and crossed one leg over the other.

She always made sure she looked _good_, no matter if she was home, or bustling about in the crowds with Daphne and Pansy, which she was doing too regularly.

Both Pansy and Daphne were in the other room, and Draco had taken it upon himself to leave, unwilling to deal with such _grating_ company in the _calm before the storm_. The fact that Astoria was inviting over guests without Draco's consent now infuriated him. He wouldn't speak up. At least not when he felt like he was about to lose his mind without her help. Draco was slowly, progressively realizing that Astoria might not be the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It all started the moment he realized how much he missed those curly brunette locks, and warm brown eyes.

_That thought has always been in the very back of my mind._

"Keep your wedding date." Draco said a little harsh.

Astoria stopped staring at her nails for two point five seconds, to take a careful glare at Draco. She looked as if he had, literally, ripped her head from her shoulders. She was shocked, and for no real reason.

"Don't you want your mother-"

"my mother is dying."

"Yes… but she might be able t-"

"I'm not taking her out of St. Mungo's. She has more care there."

Astoria twisted her lips into a most hateful, hurt frown. She stood from the couch, and rose her arm above her head. Draco watched as she contemplated slapping him, and was amused to see that she would actually try. He reached and snatched Astoria's wrist.

He would not let her act like a bloody fool in _his_ house.

"It's unattractive when you act like the world is ending because nothing is going the way you want it to."

"I was only suggesting!"

"And you proceeded to strike me. Well, not in this house, not while I am still with you." Draco said, angrily, through his teeth.

Astoria wrenched her wrist away, bowing her head, "I'm sorry."

She was pulling the innocent card on him, like she would do whenever she'd upset him. He sighed, inwardly rolling his eyes at her. All he could do was take Astoria into his arms and stroke her hair. He needed an excuse… a cover. He needn't let her know that he was thinking about the same girl he had left her for the _first_ time.

"_I'm_ sorry." He mumbled to the shell of her ear, "Just nerves. Move the date if you want."

Astoria was so pleased with Draco's _sudden change of heart_, that she pulled away enough to be inches from his lips. She pulled him in for a hot kiss, which led to the both of them making love in the den… while their friends sipped tea in the room just across from the two of them.

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><p><strong>Draco… your balls dropped up until you sucked 'em right back in. Sigh. I guess I kind of need him somewhat whipped when it comes to Astoria. You know?<strong>

**As for Hermione, we all know she won't be able to stop thinking about Draco… and that will drive her mad. What's to come for the two? What about Ginny's pregnancy?**


	12. Eleven: Colours and Promises

**Chapter Eleven: Colours And Promises **

**Time to have Ginny drama. **

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><p>Ginny had this lingering pain in her abdomen that was not going away any time soon. She tried to mask her pain with a smile whenever she saw someone look at her sideways, or approach her. She was in the middle of training a new player to take her place while she was with child, when the sudden urge to fall to her knees hit. Ginny had not felt such a pain before… at least not… for a while. Frankly, it scared Ginny. Was it going to hurt the baby? She would not call Harry, Ron, or Hermione for that matter, no need to get them worked up for nothing. Ginny shrugged it off as persistent <em>gas<em>, as embarrassing that was to say.

All she could do, for now, was suck it up, swallow hard, and focus back on the girl currently waiting patiently for Ginny to gather herself. _Ugh_. Ginny hated training.

"You can start by doing round bouts with the-" Ginny paused in mid-sentence and doubled over. She lost all the will to breathe as a wave of pain throbbed just above her belly. She grabbed her torso with a force that almost ripped the threads of her shirt from the seams. She wanted to scream, and her organs felt as if they would rupture from the pain. It twisted every last nerve in her petite figure, knots winding and colliding with one another. It might have been as bad as the Cruciatis… Ginny didn't much feel like making the comparison… but…

Something was _definitely_ wrong with the baby. Ginny didn't know she was crying until the little girl in front of her tried to help Ginny into a straight standing position. When the redhead screamed in protest, the girl backed up so fast that she almost tripped over her own broom.

The coach whistled, and that was all Ginny remembered before blacking out completely.

* * *

><p>Hermione swept the living room… on her day off… in her pajamas while the clock chimed in that it was lunchtime. She wiped the sweat from her brow, letting out a small yawn. It was only eleven, and she had been up since five that morning. She was too used to routine.<p>

Hermione laughed at herself and then glanced down at the floors, _How can something still stay so dirty? _Her work was effortless. There was just no getting all the dust out of the house no matter how hard she tried. It was not hard to see why they all got so sick every year, what with _dust bunnies_ bopping around in the air, as if they were mating to make _more_ and _more_ dust.

She dropped the broom in defeat, searching for her wand. Why not scourgify instead of doing it all by hand?

Hermione was just about to cast her spell, when something chimed in the fireplace. She turned her head just in time to see Harry a pale white, with sweat rolling down his temples. He looked _terrible_, to say the least, and Hermione rushed over to him as he took slow, ragged breaths to gain the potency to tell Hermione what was wrong. It took him several seconds. Hermione practically had to shove Harry on the shoulder to get it out of him.

"It's Ginny…" he gasped.

Immediately, Hermione had the instinct to throw on her slippers, her coat and scarf, and throw floo powder into the fireplace to get to the nearest hospital in town. Harry stopped her with a brisk grab to her upper arm, and gasped some more. He was not ready to leave just yet.

Tears were filling the eyes of her best friend. Hermione felt so selfish for not noticing them before and only thinking about wanting to _leave_ at an instant without checking on her best friend to make sure he was okay.

"Harry…?"

Harry shook his head, roughly rubbed his entire face, and plopped against the stone of the fireplace. He got paler, if that was possible, and it looked as if he would get sick right there in the floor. Hermione stroked his cheek, drenched in sweat. She ought not let it bother her too much at that moment.

"She was at practice today… When she started doubling over and-"

Hermione feared the worst.

Harry only concluded those fears, "She might have lost the baby."

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><p><strong>These chapters are short. Sorry, I had to throw pregger Ginny back into the mix, since I hadn't mentioned that in a while. Draco will come back soon, I promise. Just… not yet. <strong>


	13. Twelve: Bloodstain On The Floor

**Chapter Twelve: Bloodstain on the Floor**

**I don't like updating late. I really don't.**

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><p>Hermione had never seen Ginerva Weasley so sad in her life… well… in a <em>while<em>. At least… not since Fred died. She was in fetal position on the bed, cradling her knees almost to her face as she hid underneath the sheets as to hide her obvious devastation from all around her. Hermione could figure nothing else to do but try and keep her company. They all took shifts. When one left, another took their post- although, Harry was almost _never_ out of Ginny's reach.

He had stopped crying long enough to tell Ginny that everything would be okay. They might not of had _this_ one… but.

Harry promised he would not lose faith in that.

Hermione felt her heart breaking the longer she sat staring at the couple.

Having ended her shift with Ginny, and a whole week to spare with spending time, Hermione breathed in the cold air as she stood in the hospital hallway. Just upstairs, Draco was somewhere with his mother. Hermione kicked her foot at nothing. She shouldn't be thinking about him.

She needed coffee, and she needed it before she fell out on the floor with lack of exhaustion.

Tossing her head from side to side, followed by peeking into the room where Ginny and Harry were now whispering to one another, Hermione slipped her hand into the door and grasped her coat. _How can it be this cold in the hospital no less?_ She said to herself. Hermione pulled it over her arms, and started her way to the cafeteria. It wasn't a completely long walk, but being paranoid, Hermione felt as if it were miles away.

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><p>Ron was already in the cafeteria when Hermione walked in, still quite paranoid about running into the platinum blonde Slytherin Prince. She almost smiled at seeing her other, and pulled the jacket around her a little more tightly. Ron had not so much as said more than a full sentence since Ginny went into the hospital. The fact that his baby sister was in pain was too much for him to bear. His older brother instinct was to nurture his little sister… but the instinct to keep his distance and spare himself the tears reigned supreme over it. Ron was not much for comforting anyways.<p>

He turned at the sound of footsteps approaching, and Ron instantly inherited a smile of warmth upon his lips at the sight of Hermione. She smiled back at him in kind, before taking a spot next to him at the picnic-inspired table.

"How… how is she doing?" Ron asked, ducking his head a little at the thought of it.

Hermione looped her arm around his, "Ginny is going to be like this for a while, Ron. She lost her first child."

"She loved it before it was even born."

"Wouldn't you be the same?"

Ron thought about it, shrugged, and kept his eyes to the table. Hermione could not help but feel the need to cheer Ron up a little. He wasn't the one devastated… but that didn't mean he wasn't down too. Hermione, gingerly, brushed her fingertips along the line of Ron's jaw and to his Adam's Apple. He smirked, glancing around the room. Hermione knew what he was thinking, and it was devilish to think it herself. It, though, was not the direction she was intending. Hermione pecked an innocent kiss on the ginger's lips, draping her arms around his shoulders.

Ron hummed into the kiss, "I love you."

"I love you too, Ronald."

"When can we go home?"

Hermione relaxed her arms, and glanced around the cafeteria. She didn't really know the answer to that one, but Hermione knew that she wasn't about to leave with Ginny still in a room grieving. Ron would end up going home anyways, something about work, and Hermione wasn't going to stop him. She thought it would be best if she just let Harry stay with Ginny until she was allowed home. Surely neither one of them would mind… or maybe even notice the both of them gone.

"I don't know."

"Maybe we can go home tonight. I really don't want to sleep on the window sill again."

"That was hardly sleep, Ron… we've not even been here a whole day." Hermione giggled, brushing a lock of red hair away from her lover's eyes. He looked much like a stubborn child, and Hermione swore that was why she loved him in the first place.

"It feels like a year."

"Oh, rubbish. Stop exaggerating, Ron. It's your sister… can't you stay until we know anything more?"

Ron shrugged. "So, why have you come down here? Hungry?"

Hermione had completely forgotten why she had come down in the first place. What with the paranoia of seeing Draco, and the distraction of finding Ron, her craving for the coffee sort of disappeared. She rubbed her temple, sighing heavily.

"Coffee."

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><p>Ginny was sitting up straight when Hermione and Ron walked into the hospital room. She was almost even flushed with color, holding a cup of water and sitting in front of a plate of food. Harry careened against the wall, dozing off from exhaustion.<p>

"How are you feeling, love?" Hermione said in a rushed, breathy voice. She slid onto the side of the bed and cradled Ginny's cheek in her palm.

It was stained with tears, and Ginny lifted her own hand to her friend's, somewhat smiling, "Right now? They gave me something… I don't much feel like crying, if that means anything."

"That's brilliant!" Ron shouted, coming up to the other side of his sister.

Ginny swallowed, and squeezed Hermione's hand tight. Hermione looked into Ginny's soft, glistening eyes and nodded.

"We are all here for you."

"I want you to take Harry home, Hermione."

"Gi…ginny, what?"

"They're going to let me out tomorrow. I need to be alone and think about this for a little bit…"

Hermione shook her head, "But Ginny-"

"Hermione, please."

Ron and Hermione both exchanged glances. Hermione bit the inside of her lip before taking a careful glance at Harry. He had fallen asleep against the wall, head bowed and glasses close to sliding from the bridge of his nose.

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><p><strong>I'm going mad not writing as much Draco as I could be. Geez. I might bring him back next chapter. <strong>


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